Weary eyed disappointment shines through the blue
in an attempt to quell my spirit.
6 weeks between us, yet you are as old as time.

I am not sorry for your frustration,
it stirs my ***** to see your distress
at my half-smile.

I offered you warning, long before gold was shared.
I told you I'd be hard to hold,
spelled out my weakness,
held aloft all flaws.

Still you lept at my flame,
seeking to contain it within your covetous palm,
to mold me with your priceless wisdom,
your righteous idea of who I could be,
should be....would be.

A me without a trace of self is your desire.
A shell filled with your vision of perfection.

A stay at home
Lay at home wife.

Last night you said that you had made me a better person,
while I sat and wondered at your breathing
in the hope that it would stop.

Do not take my silence as compliance.